the clock tower

[groundrules]

Happy Hallow-elevator! The clock tower event lasts between 22 October and 8 November. ICly, the tower incursion stretches around a week, and you’re welcome to have your character investigate something else, if they finish early!

THE CLOCK TOWER

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ALL IS AS ALL WAS| TRIAL & NO ERRORS | THE TOWER

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ALL IS AS ALL WAS

Play it cool, as Serthica’s customs officers pore over your passport papers, before grudgingly allowing you overground. Minaras, you hear, is hunting a delinquent.

Both it and Eidris fare well, with no sign of the damage that preceded the Unwinding. Locals no longer behave eerily, dragons and clockwork droids roam freely, and everyone hates taxes.

Yet perfect strangers insist they know you. Your assigned address leads to a different house. The roads, buildings and architecture look ‘lived in,’ but changed.

No one remembers the Unwinding.

■ Burlap mannequins sometimes watch from mirrors, windows and reflecting surfaces.

■ You might hear shifting and scratching in Eidris walls.

■ Minaras has doubled its bounty for a man not unlike Leonard McCoy.

■ Black fungal spores are found on the increasingly voluminous experiment vials, specimens and supplies thrown out by Minaras medical facilities.

■ Frail and confused, Ellethia survivor Zenobius finally awakens. A short thread is up for RNG grabs.

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TRIALS & NO ERRORS

The guard troops that Eidris and Minaras assign to the Neutral Zone now protect King Thivar and High Councillor Arabella during the annual Sanctuary Reckoning trials. Both adjudicate cases that violate the ceasefire.

Prolonging the trials buys time for your companions in the clock tower.

■ Create a distraction — flood the judgement hall rooms? Fire? Illusions?

■ Pose as trial participants: perhaps you are of Eidris, and you caught this wicked Minaraian raiding your home? Mayhap this wretched man of Eidris stole your girlfriend? Wait, you’re a Minaraian who wants to kill King Thivar?

■ …organise breakouts, if Thivar or Arabella have your jailed. You are first imprisoned in makeshift Sanctuary cells — all but poorly locked, glorified closets. Get a trial sentence!

■ Thivar and Arabella treat the trials as a box-ticking exercise.

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THE TOWER

As Eidris and Minaras play court, you can infiltrate the Neutral Zone clock tower of Vassarizhia.

■ Only token security remains. The door is unlocked.

■ Karsa supplies paper talismans that must be burned in the watch fire at the tower’s top level.

■ Each burned talisman amplifies the reveal spell that Karsa activates. Link a finished burning thread by 8 November to help the cause.

■ A November mod post will describe how much of Serthica’s ‘undeath’ characters can see.

■ Placing Magnus’ dragon eye before the tower’s telescope will allow characters to always see Serthica’s undeath, moving forward.

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✘ ELEVATOR ETIQUETTE

Imperfect stillness dominates Vassarizhia: your footsteps do not click, words die in your mouth. The tower’s rickety gear slither silently. Your heartbeat aligns with the clock’s tick… tock.
You have the growing, gnarly certainty that you have invaded something ancient and alive.

The tower’s entryway level is large, deserted, stacked with gears. At its core is a dilapidated open elevator shaft.

A large sign says to find and pull the floor lever, if elevators stop.

■ There are two elevators. Each narrow lift can hold up to four people, crammed. The upper half of the carriage is chain-link fence, while the floors contain hatches that sometimes open mid-travel for 30 seconds. Hold on to ceiling-bound leather straps.

■ The ropes holding the elevators are thick, but tattered.

■ The elevator’s creaking squeals can awaken swarms of 1m-tall bats and bat wyverns. They rattle the lift, but ultimately withdraw.

■ The elevator can stop at as many levels as you want (or none!).

■ Beyond the second level, you feel intensely paranoid and see your companions as the persons you most hate/fear for five to 10 minutes. Reaching the top, you are tempted to cut the lift ropes of those who follow. (The ropes and elevators recover, after crashing to the bottom. )

■ On each floor, as you exit the elevator, a nearby wall shows a different scratched instruction, signed by DAVID.

LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH| LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR | LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS | LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)

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LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH
CONTENT WARNING: MINOTAUR, BODY HORROR

Step into a jail maze, flooded to knee level. Confusing corridors narrow, widen and contort, while wall torches dim.

Intermittent howling reveals you’re not alone. Hiding, you see child-like chalk drawings of forest animals on walls — and a great minotaur. Keep silent.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY.

■ Collect some of the many discarded daggers or axes. Rope bundles float in water — use them to paralyse your captive or briefly force them under your control.

■ Don’t linger in one place: rotting, bodiless hands surface to restrain you.

■ Bad news, if you swallow water when the minotaur or dead hands try to drown you: your skin stretches and bursts, while your bones pop and extend. You mutate into a half human, half woodland creature, all bloodlust. ( Inspiration, anyone? ) Your companions should still recognise you; between hazy memories and constant pain, you might struggle to remember them and even attack.

■ Morphed characters can (painfully) return to normal within minutes of re-entering the elevator.

■ A smaller and distressed three-headed minotaur also roams the labyrinth. Two of its heads sob, while the third urges you to hide with it when brother approaches. It tries to throttle you with a noose to make brother happy, if you follow. David did say.

■ The minotaur and its sibling have poor sight. They cannot enter a corridor where you’ve drawn or laid down a line.

■ Pull the lever, and a straight corridor leads you to the elevator.

TOP | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR
CONTENT WARNING: GIANT SKELETON, BLOOD DRINKING

Here, only barren stone and thin rivulets of fresh water pouring from wall fountains with sharp-tipped ornaments — your spilled blood quickly infects the basins. Knives, pins and bowls have been abandoned nearby.

High pressure and vertigo overwhelm you. Follow a rhythmic heaving to where the upper half of an enormous skeleton — the Ancestor — has broken through a wall. White, silk thread fetters it. Dried blood rims its cracked mouth. Before it, the stone floor has been tarnished, up to a 5m radius.

The Ancestor appears dormant, a crown of iron thorns on its head. It clutches the lever tightly in its right hand. Above it, an engraving urges, SPILL WINE FOR YOUR ANCESTOR.

■ David S P’s elevator scrawl says, WATER TO WINE.

■ Dally staring and you feel dizzy, nauseous, depressed and compelled to share your close-death encounters. Before you know it, you are stepping into the Ancestor’s radius…

■ …where it plunges for you, if you don’t bear a filled cup. The silk ropes keep the Ancestor from reaching beyond 5m.

■ Two carvings under his fists read HONOUR THY FATHER and DISHONOUR THY MOTHER.

■ Quickly distract the Ancestor from crumbling his captives, tearing their arms or attempting to eat them.

■ The Ancestor is instinct-driven, consumed by thirst. It cannot see or smell, and only remembers taste. Sounds divert it.

■ Improvise: there is no actual wine here. Infuse water, spill blood, or vocally pretend you are delivering wine, and the Ancestor might spare you.

■ If sated, the Ancestor releases the lever.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

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LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
CONTENT WARNING: SCARECROW, SKINNED CREATURES

Enjoy pitch dark, dread and bile spreading in your gut. Take a candle from near the elevator and roam through small, unlocked rooms that feature tattered beds, strips of tanning leather and blood or wax spilled on the floor.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, O CATCHES IT.

■ Ahead, you see candle-bearing mannequins that dance a hora to the same song played by Jim Kirk’s music box: “Up the mountain, in the grove, hand in hand to Ke-Waihu, fresh harvest’s a treasure trove, each fall we feast anew.”

■ The creatures are patched abominations of wax, skinned flesh and burlap. In the middle of the hora is a wiry scarecrow, eyes blazing with candle fire as it points a large cleaver. In certain lights, the scarecrow’s face briefly contorts into that of your mother. It wears priestly robes that Arc III survivors may recognise from the House of Ravens.

■ As the dance finishes, you notice the lever in the middle of the circle, where flame spells out TAKE THEM, NOT ME. The game begins.

■ The abominations run, gleefully manic and screaming TAAAA~AAAAAG. YOU’RE IT! The scarecrow unflinchingly cuts them down while pursuing you. Hide in the abandoned rooms, or risk snuffing your candle to avoid detection.

■ Some abominations slap you, hold you, or alert the scarecrow. Others offer shelter. A few peel off wax skins from their limbs — showing black fungi beneath. They murmur, IT NEVER GOES AWAY.

■ Parchment strips fall from the scarecrow’s sleeves, reading, HAPPY NAME DAY, MOTHER KNOWS BEST, THE SIN RAN DEEPER THAN SKIN, IF YOU CAN BEAR IT, IT’S A GAME.

■ Bless David: draw the scarecrow into a drawn or makeshift circle to trap it.

■ Intense, paralysing fear arrests you, if the scarecrow catches you. The wax abominations chant, TAKE THEM, NOT ME. One might even take pity and move your numbed mouth to utter the words. Say them — and the scarecrow lands deep cuts on your arms, then pursues your companion.

■ If you betray someone, the abominations take the appearance of your worst version: whether physically mutated, with a temper that amplifies your worst features, or both.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

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LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS
CONTENT WARNING: MANIPULATION, MENTAL COERCION

You enter a quiet room. The lever sits on a table, beside rope and a dagger. As you approach, your surroundings transform: perhaps your dearest dead appear to warmly welcome you. Crowds of your doubters celebrate your success. Or you are in a calm oasis, where nothing hurts.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, THIS DREAM IS A NIGHTMARE.

■ Whatever your deepest wishes, the room’s vivid illusions provide. With time, your beautiful dreams deteriorate into horror. Sometimes, you hear whispers of, Make a wish.

■ The room increasingly drains your life force. Within half an hour, you have gaunt flesh, brittle bones and a hunched back. Or you might feel compelled to harm yourself, clawing your arms and face, or pulling your hair out.

■ The damage comes undone minutes after reaching the elevator.

■ The room focuses on one person: if someone joins you, they see fainter echoes of what the room shows you, but they are not enthralled. They must coax or drag you away.

■ If you are under the room’s influence, it forces you to make any later intruders stay.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL V

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LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)
CONTENT WARNING: PLAGUE, THE CHILD

At the tower’s open-sky top, fire crackles from a small stone pit, shielded by a familiar, immovable blood-spattered white umbrella. Nearby, discover an immense rusted telescope and other discarded astronomy tools.

You trip on rain-battered yellowed bones at every step. One skeletal hand holds a watch piece, engraved for Mr. David Sebastian Pumpkins.

■ David S P’s has only scrawled his signature.

■ You might reach the flame easily, or be overwhelmed by sickness, black fungal spores blooming on your fingers, while you cough blood and experience intense fever. The symptoms wane once you reach the fire.

■ Burn paper talismans and link finished threads to help Karsa’s spell.

■ The child with a fox mask from the Unwinding could appear. Sign up for one of three short threads, which must finalise by 3 November.

NOTES

■ Some of the bigger plot clues have been emphasised, to help navigate through the horror details.

■ You can hit up some NPCs during the trials.

■ Check out plotting posts for last-minute team-ups.

■ Back to the top.

QUESTIONS

Comments

[edgerun]

( she sees the tips of his toes from under her eyelashes as she looks up at him from her back. she rolls to her front, climbing to her knees as her eyes search his behind the mask. )

Do you like what you see? ( she asks back, sitting on her knees with her head tilted at him. )

[sansdoute]

( Bright eyes, perhaps too much white to them. Lashes dark and long and spearing, the kind that would make a maiden her name for beauty. He stares back. )

I do. They're happy below. I'm keeping them happy. I'm being very good. ( And harsher: ) You're not.

[edgerun]

( there's a brief narrowing of her eyes at his tone. his word choice.

then she looks away, bored and dismissive suddenly. ) Yeah? And who asked you to do it?

[sansdoute]

( And for the first time throughout his many interactions with visitors, not the least of which today, the boy is... curious. Tilting his head to study the girl, as if she might be the latest in a string of slowly unveiling secrets. )

What do you mean? Don't you like keeping people happy? Aren't they supposed to be happy?

[edgerun]

( on the surface, she understands he's trying to make it like it's a favor. but there's a word... "keeping" people happy. there's force behind it. a level of control. )

Keeping them happy? Are you forcing them to be happy?

Happiness you don't make yourself isn't real.

[sansdoute]

I'm helping. They wouldn't stay happy, if...

( And, drip by drip, step by step, the menace of this child inches closer. )

You're sick. And you're making my thoughts sick, too. It's wrong.

[edgerun]

Eh? Who told you I'm sick? ( she turns her gaze back on him fully, her eyes harsh and firm and full of judgement.

this world is certainly sick, that much is obvious. and this child, she doesn't doubt, is a part of the problem. does that also make him a part of the solution? and if so, how?

she worries she doesn't have enough time to process those thoughts. she's been brought to the dangerous climax of a winding story, and that exposition has turned it's sights on her now. her fingers curl into her palms, finding the edges of cyberware. )

I'm not sick. You can't just make up lies about me so you don't have to listen.

[sansdoute]

You are sick. You're very sick. You're the sickest you've ever been.

( It is a strange, child-like thing to sound so wholly, so impossibly, so unwaveringly certain. It is, and yet he is. )

You're going to die. I'm sorry.

[edgerun]

Who asked you to be sorry? What's wrong with dying? ( after all, who really wants to live forever anyway? )

[sansdoute]

( ...really.

Really, he can't stop staring, a little bit silent, a little more lost. )

It hurts to die. It's all the pain. All the pain of everything and everyone, and it can't fit in you, so it just. It just burrows deeper and deeper, and I don't think I've got bones anymore, I think it ate them up, I think... I think... dying is a very evil thing, and no one should have to.

[edgerun]

( at least that stopped him, enough. her fingers remain curled as she shakes her head. )

Dying is different for everyone. And you don't get to say what everyone does with their death.

Taking freedom away. That's evil. ( she tilts her head at him. ) Who taught you try to tell me how to die?

[sansdoute]

That's... no one. No one's taught me much of anything.

( He sounds almost sheepish — worse still, embarrassed. As if he's been revealed for his absence of tutoring, of real schooling. )

I'm not... stupid. I'm not. I'm... if you want to stay here, you can. I thought... you wouldn't. But you can. I don't mind. ( And more chipper, somehow: ) You could play with me!

[edgerun]

( somehow playing with him doesn't seem like the brightest idea.

but she's a netrunner. and you don't discover by leaving stones unturned. )

What do you do to play?

[sansdoute]

...I look at my dolls. And I keep them well. I make sure they're fed and...

( He stops, as if behind his mask, he might be teething at his lower lip, as if this doesn't come easily. )

They're not the same. Some are different, and some are prettier, and some are uglier, and some are sick. And you can't... you need to distract them. So they don't notice, the pretty ones, so they don't see the ones that are sick. You just... keep them busy. You play with them more.

[edgerun]

( she holds up her hand underneath his umbrella. )

You made the sick better for me. You can't do that for all of them?

[sansdoute]

I'm not, I'm... I'm not making it better, it's, that's him, I'm —

( Restless, fidgeting, already feverish with movement. Waving his hands as if he's searching for an artefact lost, for something that should be found. And as he moves, the bone dust from the ground rises, its particles spiral and spool together in the air, and convert to molecules, to skeleton, to muscle, to skin, to men and women whole, alive and well and gazing wide-eyed upon each other —

And the mould comes for them, from within, spores and flowers blooming, until it eats them down to nothing, like locusts.

He is silent, as dust slips down again. Drained. )

I'm keeping it back, I'm keeping it still. And it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm trying, I'm... I never meant for it to happen.

[edgerun]

( well...

Lucy has certainly seen some things the past few days in this strange place. a lot was easy to dismiss as dreams. the tower was certainly unique.

but what she just saw...

and slowly, sympathy edges it's way into her heart. maybe it's the ghosts of her fallen brothers and sisters, or maybe it's just seeing the strain in him. she thought him playing games with them. and he is, to an extent. but there's not a lack of concern.

she gets to her feet, approaching him now with a gentler tone than before. )

Death isn't yours to play with. But the sickness... if you're keeping it back, it must be scary doing it alone?

[sansdoute]

( She comes close, too close — and he is wary. Skittish, stepping back vehemently — as if she fears what she might do. As if she is certain to — )

Don't hurt me.

( — put the pain in him.

Only, he doesn't wait to learn, doesn't give her the chance, she'll take it, older people always do. He disappears in the same snowfall of ash and mould as the dust he'd called up earlier.

Gone, with his umbrella. )